Napoleon's Marshals

by R. P. Dunn-Pattison

Napoleon embraced him with the words, "Let us be friends." "Till death," replied his staunch lieutenant. Then came his reward. "You have behaved valiantly," continued the Emperor, "and have rendered me the greatest services, as, indeed, throughout the entire campaign. On the battlefield of your glory, where I owe you so large a share of yesterday's success, I make you a Marshal of France. You have long deserved it."

After the ratification of peace, the Emperor created his new Marshal Duke of Tarentum, granted him a present of sixty thousand francs, and presented him with the Grand Cordon of the Legion of Honour. Having at last regained the Emperor's favour, the Marshal had never again to complain of lack of employment. From Wagram he was sent to watch the army of the Archduke John; thereafter he was appointed commander-in-chief of the Army of Italy. In 1810 he was despatched to Spain to take command in Catalonia. Like his fellow Marshals, Macdonald hated the Spanish war, which was a war of posts, and devoid of glory. But he showed his versatility by capturing, without artillery, the stronghold of Figueras.

It was while suffering from a bad attack of gout after this success that he was summoned from Spain to Tilsit, to command the corps comprised of Prussian troops which was to join the Grand Army in its advance into Russia. As he graphically put it, "I had left my armchair in the fortress of Figueras, I left one crutch in Paris and the other in Berlin." The Duke of Tarentum's duty was to guard the tête-du-pont at Dunaberg, near the mouth of the Dwina; consequently he was spared a great many of the horrors of the terrible retreat. Still, he had his full share of troubles, for the Prussians deserted him and went over to the enemy. So confident was he of the loyalty of his subordinates that this desertion took him quite unawares, and, in spite of warnings, he waited for the divisions to rejoin him, declaring that, "My life, my career, shall never be stained with the reproach that I have committed the cowardly action of deserting troops committed to my care." Fortunately his eyes were opened by letters which he intercepted. With a handful of troops he escaped to Dantzig. On returning to Paris Macdonald was greeted with a cold reception by the Emperor, who thought that the desertion of the Prussians was due to his negligence. But the Marshal's character was soon cleared and a reconciliation followed. In the campaign of 1813 it fell to the lot of the Duke of Tarentum to watch the Prussian army under Blücher in Silesia while the Emperor operated against the Austrians round Dresden. Whilst thus employed he was defeated on August 26th at the Katzbach. The Prussians had established themselves on the heights at Jauer. Macdonald attempted, by a combined frontal attack and a turning movement, to dislodge them. Unfortunately the rain came down in torrents, the French artillery became embedded in the mud, the infantry could not fire, the cavalry could not charge, and a hurried retreat alone saved the Army from absolute annihilation, for, as Macdonald wrote in his despatch, "The generals cannot prevent the men from seeking shelter, as their muskets are useless to them."

The repulse at the Katzbach did not weaken the Emperor's esteem for the Marshal, and a few days later he sent to inquire his views of the general situation. With absolute courage he told the truth. The situation was hopeless; the only wise course was to evacuate all garrisons in Germany and retire on the Saale. Unfortunately, such a retirement would have meant the loss of Napoleon's throne.

On the third day of the battle of Leipzig, in the midst of the action, Macdonald was deserted by all the Hessian troops under his command, and, at the same time, Marshal Augereau, who was supposed to cover his right, withdrew from the combat. Accordingly, the Marshal retired with the remnants of his corps to the Elster, only to find the bridge blown up. Dragged along by the crowd of fugitives, he determined not to fall alive into the hands of the enemy, but either to drown or shoot himself. More fortunate, however, than Prince Poniatowski, he managed to cross the river on his horse. Once safely across, he was greeted by cries from the other bank, "Monsieur le Maréchal, save your soldiers, save your children!" But there was nothing to be done; no advice could he give them save to surrender.

The Duke of Tarentum was mainly instrumental in saving the remnants of the army which had managed to cross the Elster. Going straight to the Emperor, he laid the situation before him, ruthlessly tore aside the tissue of lies with which the staff were trying to cajole him, and, by his force of will, compelled Napoleon, who for the time was quite unnerved and mazed, to hurry on the retreat to the Rhine. It was entirely owing to the Marshal that the Bavarians were brushed aside at Hanau, and that some few remnants of the great army regained France.

In the famous campaign of 1814 Macdonald fought fiercely to drive the enemy out of France. His corps was one of those which the Emperor summoned to Arcis sur Aube. There again he had to tell Napoleon the truth and convince him that the enemy were not retreating, but were in full advance on Paris. When the Emperor tried to retrieve his mistake by following in the rear, the Marshal was in favour of the bolder course of advancing into Alsace and Lorraine, and of raising the nation in arms, and thus starving out the Allies by cutting off their supplies and reinforcements; and no doubt he was right, for the Czar himself said that the Allies lost more than three thousand troops in the Vosges without seeing a single French soldier.

When Napoleon reached Fontainebleau he found that he had shot his bolt. So tired were his officers and men of continual fighting that, when ordered to charge, a general officer in front of his men had called out, "Damn it, let us have peace!" Consequently when Macdonald and the other Marshals and generals were informed that the Allies would no longer treat with Napoleon, they determined to make him abdicate. The Emperor, on summoning his council, found that they no longer feared him, and refused to listen to his arguments. Hoping to save the throne for his son, he despatched Caulaincourt, Ney, Marmont, and Macdonald to the Czar, offering to abdicate. The best terms the Commissioners could get from the Czar were that Napoleon must give up all hope of seeing his son succeed him, but that he should retain his imperial title and should be allowed to rule the island of Elba. The Czar magnanimously added, "If he will not accept this sovereignty, and if he can find no shelter elsewhere, tell him, I say, to come to my dominions. There he shall be received as a sovereign: he can trust the word of Alexander."

Ney and Marmont did not accompany the other Commissioners with their sorrowful terms; like rats they left the sinking ship. But Macdonald was of a strain which had stood the test of the '45, and his proud Scotch blood boiled up when the insidious Talleyrand suggested that he should desert his master, telling him that he had now fulfilled all his engagements and was free. "No, I am not," was the stern reply, "and nobody knows better than you that, as long as a treaty has not been ratified, it may be annulled. After that formality is ended, I shall know what to do." The stricken Emperor met his two faithful Commissioners, his face haggard, his complexion yellow and sickly, but for once at least he felt gratitude. "I have loaded with favours," he said, "many others who have now deserted and abandoned me. You, who owe me nothing, have remained faithful. I appreciate your loyalty too late, and I sincerely regret that I am now in a position in which I can only prove my gratitude by words."

After Napoleon started for Elba, Macdonald never saw him again. Like all his fellow Marshals, except Davout, he swore allegiance to Louis XVIII., looking on him as the only hope of France, but, unlike the most of them, he served him loyally, though, as he truly said, "The Government behaved like a sick man who is utterly indifferent to all around him." As a soldier and a liberal he could not disguise his repugnance for many of its measures. As secretary to the Chamber of Peers, he fought tooth and nail against the Government's first measure, a Bill attempting to restrict the liberties of the peers. The King summoned the Marshal and rebuked him for both speaking and voting against the Government, adding, "When I take the trouble to draw up a Bill, I have good reasons for wishing it to pass." But the old soldier, who had never feared to speak the truth to Napoleon himself, was not to be overawed by the attempted sternness of the feeble Bourbon. He pointed out that if all Bills presented by the King were bound to pass, "registration would serve equally well, since to you belongs the initiative," adding with quiet sarcasm, "and we must remain as mute as the late Corps Legislatif." The Chancellor stopped him as he left the King's presence, telling him he should show more reserve and pick his words. "Sir Chancellor," said the Marshal, "I have never learned to twist myself, and I pity the King if what he ought to know is concealed from him. For my part, I shall always speak to him honestly and serve him in the same manner."